Saturday, September 06, 2008
And Here's Where Things Get Interesting

Sigh... I guess it's time. Female roommate has apparently gone into labor, and they're off meeting their midwife to begin the process. It's still two weeks until her due date, but her water has broken (god, that phrase makes me shudder) and she's having contractions, so I think it's pretty much imminent now no matter what they do.

It's funny... just today, before any of this started, male roommate and I were chatting, and he said, "so, are you ready for the baby?" (Side note: this is probably in the top five on my list of questions that will always startle me.) I didn't get the impression he realized at the time that they'd be going into labor tonight, but maybe they guessed more than I could tell. I answered that I didn't know how "ready" a mostly-uninvolved roommate could realistically be, but that I figured I was as ready as I was likely to get and that it would all be cool regardless.

Hell, I've lived six months with constant construction twenty feet outside my window and an incessantly-barking dog on the other side of my door; I can't imagine that a crying newborn is likely to break me at this point. But soon we'll know for sure.

His younger brother, a very nice guy, is here taking care of the dog and looking after the place until they get back. And then this place is probably going to turn into a major thoroughfare for visitors. That'll probably get to me a lot more than the baby will.

Update: Yep, it happened. Grandma is already fussing in the kitchen. To add to the list of things I find intensely annoying: giddy, elderly strangers attacking me with "news" while I try to stagger to the bathroom minutes after waking up.

Update 2: Wow, that baby is small. I don't think I've ever seen one that fresh before, and she's like a tiny pink, cranky wad of chewing gum.

The good news is, while I think she and her parents had a rough first night, I couldn't hear a damn thing and slept oblivious. Granted, she's only been breathing oxygen for 28 hours, and this may change as she develops some lung capacity. But I should be out of here before she gets really opinionated about things.

I brought her books -- some old-school Mother Goose and Richard Scarry. It's sort of a symbolic gesture, since it's obviously a little too soon to use them, but I think I could make a good argument that Richard Scarry gets some credit for my having become the person I am today. Or at least credit for my command of written English. Here, kid, read a damn book.
1:19 AM ::
Amy :: permalink
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